Aunt Bessie Understands

by Diana Xarissa

  Oliver frowned. “I don’t like the idea of having restrictions imposed upon us. I’ve been running this fund for ten years and I’ve always done it my way.”

  “I appreciate that, but the focus for Christmas at the Castle is on funding local charities to benefit local residents. We don’t want to restrict what you do, but I’m sure you must have plenty of funding requests from men and women on the island,” Mark replied.

  “We do, of course, but I have my own methods for choosing whom to assist. I’ve spent years developing them and I’m not interested in changing them in any way.”

  “In that case, perhaps it would best if we offered the empty room to someone else,” Mark said.

  Oliver frowned. “There must be a compromise position here,” he said. “I’d hate to miss out on the chance to take part in one of the island’s biggest fundraising events.”

  “It’s important to us that the money raised stays on the island,” Mark said.

  “We don’t have time to decorate, anyway,” Dylan said softly.

  Oliver glanced at him and then sighed deeply. “Dylan may be correct, although I’d be prepared to try. Not if you’re going to insist on imposing restrictions on the money, though.”

  “Perhaps in future years, as the event grows larger, we’ll be able to invite a greater number of charities to take part, even those who send most of their funds across or further afield,” Mark said. “For now, however, we really do want to keep the event as island focussed as possible.”

  “Let me show you something,” Oliver said. He got to his feet and left the room. A moment later he was back, carrying a large envelope. He handed the envelope to Mark.

  “These are the sorts of letters we get every day,” he said. “Look through them. See what you think.”

  Mark opened the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper. He read the top one and then passed it to Bessie. It was a touching letter from a young girl whose mother was undergoing cancer treatment. She asked the fund to consider sending her mother enough money for a wig so that her mother could feel pretty again.

  Bessie turned the sheet of paper over and found a note on the back. “Sent money for wig, matching mother and daughter dresses, and for dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the area,” it read.

  Half an hour later, Bessie put the final sheet of paper down. “It’s clear that you do a lot of good,” she said. The letters had been broadly similar, each one a request for money for some of the smaller things that most charities probably didn’t support. A few books here, a wig or a new dress there. None of the grants were for large amounts, but they all added up, of course.

  “Those are the letters for which we provided some support,” Oliver replied. “I have a file folder with ten times that many requests which we had to refuse. As I said earlier, I have my own methods for choosing where the money goes. I’ve never let anyone else influence my decision-making process. As much as I’d love to be a part of Christmas at the Castle, I can’t do it on your terms.”

  Mark nodded. “As much as we’d like you to take part, as I said earlier, we want the focus to be on the island. Hopefully, as the event grows, we’ll be able to include The Liliana Fund one day.”

  “That would be great,” Oliver said. “Dylan and I are planning to attend, anyway. I missed it last year. You sold out of tickets before I managed to get one. Having heard so many good things about the event, I didn’t make that same mistake this year.”

  “I’ll be there, whenever you come through,” Mark told him. “Make sure you ask for me at the ticket window and I’ll escort you around myself.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Oliver said with a smile. “I’m sorry we couldn’t reach an agreement, but there’s always next year.”

  Oliver stood up and held out his hand. Mark rose and shook hands with him. Bessie got to her feet more slowly. After a moment, Oliver shook her hand as well. Dylan remained slouched in his chair, staring at the ground.

  “I’ll just walk you out,” Oliver said. “Dylan, when I get back, we need to go over the numbers for the Christmas party.”

  Dylan nodded. “I have them all ready.”

  “Christmas party?” Bessie asked as Oliver escorted them back through the house.

  “We have a small gathering for some of our best donors,” Oliver explained. “We share some of the requests that we’ve received and the thank-you letters we’ve been sent after we’ve provided funding to people. It’s just mulled wine and mince pies and an hour of celebrating the people we’ve been able to help over the past year.”

  “It sounds just right for this time of year,” Bessie said.

  “It is exactly that,” Oliver laughed. “I understand you and Mary Quayle are friends. She and her husband come to the party every year.”

  “I didn’t realise they donate to The Liliana Fund,” Bessie replied.

  “Mary has been a donor for many years, since she and George moved to the island, really.”

  “Mary is very kind and generous,” Bessie said.

  “Yes, we’re hoping she might be even more generous going forward. We’d really like to expand what we do, if we can find the funding to do so,” Oliver told her.

  Bessie wondered if that sort of thing happened to Mary everywhere she went. It was very different from what Bessie typically experienced. As far as Bessie could tell, everyone on the island knew her and her life story, and also knew that she lived frugally, in order to stay within her means. All those years of living so carefully had left her quite well off by most people’s standards, but it seemed as if Bessie and her advocate, Doncan Quayle, were the only two people who knew that fact.

  Bessie was rarely asked to donate to charities, and if she was asked, it was usually for her time as a volunteer rather than for a cash donation. Of course, everyone on the island knew Mary and her husband, George. George was friendly and gregarious and made no secret of the fact that he was very wealthy. Mary’s generosity was also well known throughout the island. It must be frustrating to be asked for money from nearly everyone, Bessie thought as she followed Mark back out to his car.

  “On to the next name on the list,” he said cheerfully as he started the engine. “Do you want me to take you home first?”

  “Aren’t their offices just down the street?”

  “They are, yes, but I did promise to take you home if you came with me to see Oliver. You’ve no obligation to stay with me through this next meeting.”

  “I don’t mind. I just need to be home by half five.”

  Mark glanced at his watch. “We have plenty of time, then.”

  He drove a short distance and parked again. “I did worry that Oliver would say no. I believe we’ll have a better chance here, unless they don’t feel as if they have enough time to decorate.”

  Half an hour later they were back at the car, having secured a new participant in their event.

  “I think they’re going to be a good solid addition,” Mark said as he pulled away from the kerb.

  “They were incredibly excited to be given the opportunity, anyway. I was shocked to hear how much support they’ve lost because someone in the UK branch of the charity was dishonest.”

  “I think their plan to separate completely from the UK charity is wise. Hopefully they’ll be able to get that message out at Christmas at the Castle.”

  “I think they have some good ideas for decorations, as well. If they can put together what they’re planning, their room will be unique and interesting. I just hope they have enough time to make it happen.”

  “I’m down at Castle Rushen full-time now until opening night. I’ll give them a hand whenever I can spare a few minutes. I’m also going to ring the office and see if we can get an extra member of staff down to the castle to help out. It’s in everyone’s best interests to have their room done right, after all. A lot MNH staff only work limited hours during the winter months. No doubt we can find at least one person who would like a few extra hours of pay just before the h
olidays.”

  “If I can find the time, I’d love to come down and help, too,” Bessie said. “It would be easier if I weren’t tangled up in another murder investigation.”

  “I’m just glad this case doesn’t involve Christmas at the Castle. That made things much more difficult last year. I did wonder if some of our ticket sales were to morbid curiosity seekers last year, but as nearly every night of this year’s event is already sold out, it seems not.”

  “Last year’s event was a huge success, in spite of the murder investigation. I can’t tell you how many people have been asking me about tickets for this year based on things they were told about last year. We should discuss adding more days next year, I think.”

  “I don’t know if I have enough energy to do even more,” Mark laughed. “There are only a limited number of days in December, as well. I can’t imagine anyone would want to come to Christmas at the Castle in November.”

  “They might, if those were the only tickets they could get. We can discuss it in the new year.”

  “Yes, let’s get through this year first,” Mark said with a sigh.

  “You sound fed up.”

  “Just a bit. I feel as if we’ve been working hard on this for half the year already and we’ve still over a week to go before it opens. I’m ready for it to be over so I can get back to all my other projects.”

  “It will be over before you know it,” Bessie said soothingly. “What exciting things are you planning for next year?”

  Mark told her about a few special events that MNH were going to be hosting around the island in the early months of the new year. By the time he was finished, they were at Bessie’s cottage.

  “Will I see you again before the next committee meeting?” he asked Bessie as he walked her to her door.

  “Do I need to let you know if I’m coming down?”

  “Not at all. You’re welcome any time.”

  “I may simply turn up one day, then. I’m sure there will be lots I can do to help if I’m there. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the committee meeting on Tuesday.”

  “Two o’clock, although I’m tempted to move it to midday just so I can get lunch from the same place again. It was delicious.”

  “It was very good. I may come down early on Tuesday and have lunch there before the meeting.”

  “If you decide to do that, let me know. I’ll probably want to join you.”

  Bessie let herself into the cottage and dropped her handbag on the kitchen counter. She had an hour before her friends were due. Onnee’s letters called to her, but she was also tempted to take another walk. As she tried to make up her mind, she glanced at the answering machine. The message light was flashing.

  “Bessie, it’s Rebecca, um, Rebecca Tyler. Can you ring me back, please?” The woman said her number so quickly that Bessie had to listen to the message three times before she was fairly certain she’d written it down correctly.

  The man who answered the phone sounded angry. “What?”

  “This is Elizabeth Cubbon. Rebecca left a message on my answering machine, asking me to ring her.”

  “Really?” the man snapped. It sounded to Bessie as if he dropped the telephone’s receiver onto the table from a great height. She winced at the noise it made in her ear. After two full minutes ticked past, she began to think about putting the phone down.

  “Bessie?” Rebecca’s voice came down the line. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I was lying down.”

  “Oh, dear, I am sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m not sleeping at night, so I thought I’d try sleeping in the day, but I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, when you rang.”

  “I was simply ringing you back.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m tired and I’m not functioning very well. I keep forgetting things and,” Rebecca sighed. “But you didn’t ring to hear all of that. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. You’ve undergone a huge loss.”

  “Yes, it’s, well, more difficult than I’d ever imagined, not that I’d ever imagined anything like this, of course.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m babbling. Sorry. I rang you earlier to ask you for a favour, but now I’m having second thoughts.”

  “Ask anyway. I can always refuse.”

  “Madison wants to talk to you. She has it in her head that you can solve Phillip’s murder. There’s been so much in the local paper about you in the past few years, you see, that she believes you can do things the police can’t.”

  “On the contrary, the police are the ones who will solve Phillip’s murder. I’ll do anything I can to help, but the job is theirs.”

  “Yes, of course, but she thinks that if she tells you everything she knows about Phillip, that you’ll be able to solve the case.”

  “I hope she’s already told the police everything she knows.”

  “She has. She talked to them for three hours, but she felt as if the constable who questioned her was bored and uninterested. Apparently, he asked her out, as well. She wasn’t pleased.”

  “I suspect he could get into a good deal of trouble for that, if she reported him.”

  “Maybe, but she’s much more interested in finding Phillip’s killer than anything else. She wants to come and see you, maybe with a few of Phillip’s friends.”

  “She’s more than welcome here, of course, but all I can do is offer tea and sympathy, really.”

  “Which may be exactly what she needs,” Rebecca sighed. “She wants to feel as if she’s doing something, you see. If she drags a few of Phillip’s friends to see you, she’ll feel as if she’s involved in the case and working towards the solution.”

  They agreed to two o’clock the next day before Bessie put the phone down. A quick look in her cupboards showed that she was running low on biscuits. Friday was her usual day for grocery shopping, but she’d had to rearrange her schedule to work around committee meetings and now a murder investigation. With Hugh expected shortly, there was no way she had enough biscuits for tonight and tomorrow. A further search revealed that she didn’t have enough flour to bake anything. She needed a trip to the shop at the top of the hill.

  “You wanted another walk,” she reminded herself as she put on her shoes. It was cold and grey outside, but dry. She marched determinedly up the hill, pumping her arms and feeling grateful for her warm coat. As she walked into the shop, she glanced behind the counter. Another unfamiliar face stared back at her. Lately it seemed as if the shop’s owner couldn’t keep staff for very long at all. Many of the young people who’d served Bessie in the past year had been rude and impatient with her. One girl had even tried stealing money from Bessie by giving her change for a ten-pound note rather than the twenty that Bessie had given her. After smiling at new shop assistant, Bessie turned and headed for the small selection of biscuits on the back wall.

  “Good afternoon,” the girl said loudly. “If you need anything, just shout.”

  “Thank you,” Bessie replied, feeling hopeful that the new hire might be an improvement over the people she’d replaced.

  “Those are my favourites,” the shop assistant said a moment later. She’d come up behind Bessie, and now she pointed to a packet of biscuits. “I could eat the entire packet myself, which wouldn’t be good for me, I know.”

  “No, it wouldn’t, but it is tempting,” Bessie replied. She put the biscuits under discussion into her shopping basket.

  “These are nice, too,” she suggested, pointing to another packet.

  “Are they? I’ve not tried them.”

  “Oh, they’re really nice, actually.” Bessie grinned as the girl launched into a detailed description of them. When she was done, Bessie added them to her basket, too.

  “Any other recommendations?” she asked.

  The shop assistant flushed. “I hope you don’t think I’m odd,” she said softly. “It’s just rather lonely in here on my own all day. We have a bit of a rush around five when people are heading home from
work, but otherwise it’s usually just me, hanging around, tidying the shelves, and watching the clock tick.”

  “Most of the other people who work here seem to spend their time on their phones.”

  “I don’t really know anyone on the island, at least not yet.”

  “You’ve come over recently?”

  “Yes, just a few weeks ago, actually. My father works for one of the banks in Douglas. He was transferred here from London. I wasn’t sure if I should stay there or come with him, but Mum really wanted me to come, so here I am.”

  “Welcome, then.”

  “Oh, thank you. So far I think the island is nice. I worked in a retail shop in London with rude customers and a dreadful boss. This is better, at least so far, even if it is a little lonely.”

  “You could read a book,” Bessie suggested.

  “I would, but my books are still in boxes waiting to be unpacked. Mum and Dad are still looking for a house, so everything is in storage until they find one. House prices are a bit crazy, really.”

  “They are, yes.”

  “Anyway, I’ll get my books back eventually and then I’ll read while I wait for customers.”

  “I can lend you some books,” Bessie offered.

  “Oh, no, that’s quite all right. I didn’t mean to suggest, that is, I never thought…”

  Bessie held up a hand. “You didn’t suggest anything. I’m offering because I have a house full of books, most of which I’ll never read again. The next time I’m coming up, I’ll bring you a few.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I’d worry about them getting damaged, especially here. Things get spilled and broken all the time.”

  “I won’t lend you anything that you’ll need to worry about. What sort of books do you enjoy?”

  The girl blushed. “Mostly romance,” she said in a low voice.

  “I don’t have many romance titles, but I’ll see what I can find,” Bessie said. “I mostly read mysteries, myself.”

  “Oh, those would be a close second.”

  Bessie found a few more things she hadn’t known she needed and then carried everything to the till. It only took the shop assistant a moment to ring everything up and she took the money and got Bessie her change very efficiently.